Twelve.

We got married in Aries season. Fitting. Our love has been so into itself for a long long time. It’s been brash and brazen, loud, loyal, strong, and all the things I never thought I would find or that I deserved. When I met you, I never thought anyone had ever made me laugh the way you did. Still do. When I met you, you were nothing like anyone I had ever known. Still are one in 500 million, and there’s nothing I could write that hasn’t already been written about love, trust, togetherness, vulnerability.

Oh and that last one? No one has ever seen me the way you do. The way I crumple, but also the way I shine. These last few years have seen us both at our lowest, at our worst. I hate that you had to witness it. I’m grateful you did.

Everything you’ve ever done has been to look out for me, to help me find joy, to protect me, to strengthen me. I hope I’ve done that for you. There are times where we don’t understand each other, but that’s ok. We keep showing up. We keep trying. And we keep holding on to each other.

It’s been 12, really 19, and it is starting already. That feeling you have when you know it doesn’t matter how many years. It’s never fucking long enough. I will love you however long my spirit stays intact. I will love you far past death, one thousand more lives, 12 more centuries.

Always.